#they might have just dismissed it as being shy or quiet

[acewithobsessions]

headcanon that newt scamander sometimes goes nonverbal but has been around people so little that he hasn't really noticed until after the events of the first movie . . . 🙃

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

-

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

-

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

-

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

-

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

-

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

[simonrillleyyysss]

Right, that's fine, take your time! Whenever you get to it, I was wondering if you'd be up for writing a little thing about how Simon would be with a partner who, in front of everyone else, is the opposite of soft and sweet; she's not mean, but she's super quiet, aloof, independent, etc, but around him and ONLY him, she's the soft, sweet, not-so-tough, clingy girl only he knows about (like the usual type you write about)? This might not make any sense haha but I feel like he'd be a bit of a tease about his usual too-tough-too-independent partner being a shy, clingy, soft, putty-in-his-hands mess when it's just the two of them. Sorry if this is too weird or specific, and either way, thank you!

i’m meant to be on my break but i HAVE to do this

when simon first started dating you—he immediately took notice of your dismissive demeanour, constantly brushing people off and keeping to yourself; very rarely touching his hand in public due to embarrassment of some sort

people would constantly make comments about how defensive you were, quiet and self assured— very rarely speaking out in crowds and containing a sense of degeneracy, never hiding behind the tank you called a boyfriend: never clingy!!

so when you started warming up to him, snuggling on his lap and babbling about your day in public, it was such an honour!! everyone was so used to your silence and independence, yet here you were with him in his room, snuggling into his chest fondly, hands squeezing at his arms, his forearm slung around your back, kneading at the flesh of your thigh like dough

‘love when yr’ like this, babydoll.’

‘whaddya mean?’

‘all pudgy n’ soft, usually so scary in public, aintcha’?’

he teased with a chuckle, kissing the side of your neck with a hum, listening to your whines of embarrassment, squeezing at his wrist!!

would notice how you follow him around like a lost puppy in private, hand clinging to his his as he turned on the tv, watching his show while you questioned it, turning into faint blubbers and laughs; his fingers tickling at your side to keep you quiet!! :))

loves cuddling with his scary bear gf. grrr!!!! your hands wrapped around his neck as his leg tucked over yours, your hands scratching at his scalp; his own fingers pinching your thighs, kissing your tummy affectionately, humming.

‘like putty..’

he purred, nipping at your abdomen with his teeth; earning a whimper from you, hiding your face in embarrassment.

‘would love to see what everyone else thinks..’

‘stoop!’

‘what? just saying.’

he loves teasing you!! giggling about how you’re always so intimidating in public, but just a ball of dough in his rough palms <33

10/10. loves his scary dominating in public partner. but his submissive and bashful partner in private is even more loveable.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.3 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. switch!hobie. switch!reader. missionary. save a horse ride a cowboy. using cum as lube. hobie being a tease. after your time in the bathroom, it's hard to deny your feelings for hobie. it's even harder to deny when hobie shows up on your doorstep.

Hobie Brown liked you.

He liked you from the very moment he met you. You were responsible, respectable, with enough sense in that brain of yours to last the both of you. You were quiet yet not shy and willing to speak your mind when need be. You were mean but in a nice way, in a way that really showed you cared more than you ever wanted to let on. He might have liked that most about you. Or it would be your lips that he liked the most. After all, he’s finally gotten a taste of them twice now.

You and Hobie met at a party through Riri. She had introduced you two and you had given him a once over and, looking rather unimpressed, dismissed him in the most polite way you possibly could. Hobie thought you to be prissy and stuck up and was ready to dismiss you as well as just that until he saw you glancing at him throughout the night, always within view of him. He knew you liked him right away, simply playing, or convincing yourself, that you didn’t. He thought it was cute. 

You were avoiding him again. More so than before. According to your other shared friends, you weren’t even leaving your apartment. You didn’t want to risk any chance of running into Hobie on the street and being forced to confront your undeniable feelings right then and there.

But you had to talk about what happened eventually…right? You would have to talk to him eventually.

Would flowers be appropriate? Would they make you more upset? Imply something that was never there in the first place? Or would they soothe the undoubted rage you would feel upon seeing Hobie at your door when all you wanted was to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn't need him coming in and stirring shit up but Hobie wouldn't be himself if he didn't stir the pot just a little.

Hobie decided no flowers, not yet, you weren't ready for something like that. It would send you into a spiral, turn you off to any idea of simply talking to him.

He stood at your door for approximately 10 minutes, simply debating if disturbing you would be worth it. Hobie had the chance to make things a whole lot worse but also the chance to remedy your pain and confusion. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least try to make things better between the two of you. So he knocked, nervous for one of the few times in his life.

It was clear you didn't expect him to be at your doorstep when you opened the door. Your bored gaze widened into something of surprise, or maybe that’s fear he was seeing. You didn't hesitate to try and close the door on him but Hobie stuck his boot between the door and the frame to stop you. “Wai’, wai’, sunshine please, hol’ on.” He pleaded softly, sticking his hand through the crack to pry the door open but you had a surprising amount of strength.

“Could you stop fucking calling me that? It’s stupid and annoying.” Your words hold a bitter taste to them. Your lips are pressed into a firm scowl as you look at him. Your hands balled into fist pinned to your sides. “Why are you here, Hobie? I’m not feeling well” You let out a feeble cough to punctuate your point. It’s unconvincing even to you.

Hobie leaned against your doorframe and looked at you with those heavy-set eyes you found yourself thinking about far too often. “Ya haven’ been answerin’ ma calls.” His voice was soft compared to yours. It makes you feel a bit ridiculous for being so angry. But your anger was righteous; you had every justifiable reason to be upset.

“When do I ever answer your calls?”

“Touché.” Hobie tried to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, shifting his gaze to the side. But — God — if only you knew how anxious he was to speak to you. His mouth ran dry and his palms, usually cool, where now hot and clammy. “But we still need t’ chat. Don' wan’cha goin’ ‘round thinkin’ I was just tryna get off or somethin’.” 

You’re colder than usual to him, scoffing at his every word. Hobie was starting to think you might actually hate him. But if he’s right, and he nearly always is, you like him far more than you want to let on, you always have. This was all denial, a front, a way to protect your fragile world view and delicate self-image.

You turn yourself away from him, eyes shifting, head low. You don’t want to talk. Is it so hard to just be left alone?

Hobie could see you were shutting down. “Look– I’m no’ ‘ere to tell ya who ya are and who ya aren'. ‘M jus’ here fo’ support.” He was gentle, his lips twitched into a half-hearted smile, trying to be friendly and cordial. As much as someone like him can be.

Maybe it’s then that you realized the fact that he was just trying to offer you some kindness at a point in your life where you might have needed it most. You were so unsure of yourself, who you were, what you did. You always knew Hobie wasn’t a bad person, but you never knew he could be so tender.

You pursed your lips and sighed with defeat before opening the door a little more to let him through. His boots made your floorboards creak under the weight of them as he walked into your flat, his hand shoved into the pockets of his spiked and studded leather jacket. He was too comfortable, too cool for your liking. Or maybe you were too tense for his.

You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms over your chest as if to protect yourself. Your body language screamed defensive, closed, unwilling to listen. Your eyes shifted from side to side but never linger on Hobie for long. Back against the door, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, heel to toe. “I don’t know what you think is going on between us, what you think we share, but I’m not interested. It shouldn’t have happened.” You spat out, more at yourself than at him. “It was a mistake.”

Hobie grunted. “Way t’make a guy feel good ‘bout ‘imself.” He wasn’t hurt about it. You were going through a lot right now. And your words said more than you ever cared to say. 

“I’m not gay, Hobie.” You say a little forcefully, watching with a sort of meticulousness as Hobie wandered his way closer to you. You watched him shrug as if it didn’t matter. “So wha’? I wouldn’ call myself gay either, I jus’ like who I like.” He slid his hands from his pockets, his approach still slow and steady. You didn’t dare look away from him or make a motion in any other direction.

“‘M no askin’ you t’be gay, sunshine.”

You swallowed as Hobie reached out and placed his large hand on your hip and closed the space between your bodies. This was the very reason why you didn’t want to be around him, because you knew that if he made a motion for you, you wouldn’t have the strength to pull away.

You wanted him. You wanted him carnally, wanted him the way one being always longs for another. You wanted his hands, his lips, his cock. You wanted all of him and more. Just one more time, one more time and you’d expel him from your mind and you’d be done with it all together.

You looked at him, desperation filling your glossy eyes like tears. “Then what do you want from me, Hobie? I don’t understand.” You don’t understand yourself anymore. You don’t know yourself. All you know is that you're wildly and completely, head over heels, desperately fiending to have him again and you didn't know what that meant about yourself.

Hobie stroked your hip tenderly with his thumb. “I jus’ wan’cha t’like me back. Is tha’ so hard?”

You turned your head away, lips pursed to stop them from trembling. You were utterly terrified. Terrified because you do like him back. You like him more than you ever wanted to let on. Everything you despise about him, his saunter, his carelessness, his full laughter, his smile, is truly everything you adored about him and he had seen right through you the entire time.

“I do like you.” It feels so good to get off your chest, to finally say it out loud. You look at Hobie, eyes hard yet glassy. Your lips are pressed firmly.

Hobie didn't understand. “Then wha’s the problem?” If he liked you and you liked him, why were you so against being with him? It wasn't like you’d lose your friends, they were totally accepting of queerness if not queer themselves. And so what if anyone else judged you? You never cared about anyone’s opinion before.

“I thought you were the most annoying person in the world just a few weeks ago. I still do. So what if we like each other? That doesn't mean we’re meant to be together. I’ve known myself well all my life. I’ve known what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted to be-”

“This is ‘bout’cha feelin’ like ya don' know yerself anymore?” Hobie scoffed. “Things change, sunshine. Life happens. Grow up.” It was harsh, but you needed to hear it. You liked men, Hobie specifically, men generally. Who cares? Not him, not your friends, not the people that matter in your life. “If I like you and you like me, wouldn' i’ make the most sense for us to at least try to make sometin’ outta this?”

You were silent. Utterly and terribly silent. You didn't know what else to say. You felt ridiculous for holding on to this idea of yourself that you’d never live up to. You couldn’t believe you were admitting this but Hobie was making sense. Who cares if you like men, like him. Sure, it might come as a shock to everyone but in the end, what does it truly matter?

You look at Hobie with big eyes and your hands reached out to pull him a little closer. Who cares, you told yourself. The guilt still ate away at you but with time, you knew it would go away.

Hobie deemed it safe to kiss you. He was cautious, easing his lips onto yours, tender and innocent until it wasn’t. It was all the sum of their parts. Lips, teeth, tongue, passion, drowning desire. You reciprocated with the same timid carefulness of someone unsure of how to be gentle, how to be intimate without being aggressive.

Hobie’s fingers curled into the fabric of your shorts, pulling you closer until your body was flush with his. Your arms fell over his shoulders, fingers mindlessly scratching at the nape of his neck while your teeth nip softly at his lip piercing. He pressed you to the wall much like you had done to him that night in the bathroom and pressed his body closer to yours. You didn’t mind that all his spikes in studs were digging into your flesh. You welcomed his sharp abrasiveness.

You guided Hobie to the couch, where the two of you fell into a tangle of limbs and caressing touches. Hobie was on top of you, his large hands still on your hips but slowly beginning to roam about your body while the two of you kissed. 

Fuck, he was hard already but so were you so it made the matter all the less embarrassing. Your arousal only made him harder, more desperate for you. Hobie’s hands grasped at your hips and waist in an act of worship, before sliding between your legs to palm at your aching cock pressing against the front of your underwear.

“Hobie~” you whined softly, moaning onto the fullness of his lips before your tongue sought out his once more. “Fuck, fuck, just like that.” You should be embarrassed by how desperate you are, you both should. Your hands ferally tug at each other's clothing, just enough to get your cocks out and rutting against each other. His was bigger than yours, thicker, with veins running along the sides. He was uncut and pretty. And the direct comparison of your sizes made your cock twitch and leak onto your stomach. His precum dripped down and mingled with yours.

Hobie was not shy about rutting his hips and rubbing his length against yours. Your hands continued to pull off clothing after clothing. His vest, your shirt, his pants then yours. Until you both were totally nude, minus the spiked collar Hobie still wore.

“I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You said between bated breaths and eager kisses. Hobie pressed his hips down against yours and you whimpered just slightly. You felt his smooth yet scarred skin under your palms and felt at ease. You looked at him almost pathetically and felt your face grow hot as Hobie rolled his hips into yours and chuckled at you. The leaky tip of his cock rubbed the underside of your mushroom head and you shivered.

Hobie’s lovely lips kissed your cheek and began to hover over your jaw and down your neck. “I’ll show ya, sunshine. We’ll take turns, yeah?” He suddenly became as sweet as sugar, so sweet you could taste it on your tongue when he kissed you again. “I’ll show ya how t’do i’, then you can do i’ t’me.”

He was so gentle when he touched you, but you writhed and squirmed with every trace of his fingers along your body. “Do ya have lube?” He murmured against your flesh as he kissed a small sweet spot at the base of your neck. You nodded, a bit slowly. “I think… It’s somewhere in my room. I never needed to — fuck — use it before.” For the life of you, you couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Your brain was too fuzzy, Hobie was starting to move his hips faster and the way his cockhead rubbed yours was starting to make you delirious. “I can’t remember,” you murmur hazily. “I can’t remember, I can’t remember. God, please don’t stop.”

“Yer actin’ like this ‘n ‘m not even fuckin’ ya yet.” Hobie chuckled lowly into your ear. It tickled and you weren’t sure if that’s what made you shiver or the way he wrapped his lithe fingers around your cocks and squeezed just enough to apply a perfectly delicious amount of pressure.

You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand while Hobie thrusted his forward. He watched the way you huffed and whimpered, almost whining. You squeezed your eyes shut and simply let yourself feel his length against yours. His tip rubbed yours, precum leaking onto your slit. It was just enough to make you come undone.

You didn’t even know you came until you felt it pool all over your tummy. Your eyes opened, bleary and out of focus as your cock twitched. You reached down, looking up at Hobie who was pushing his hips in shallow thrusts. He was close, you could tell just by the way he moaned, deep and pretty like he was singing just for you.

You reached down and dragged your thumb over his dark tip, pressing against his slit and rubbing in short, tender strokes. Hobie’s hips shuddered and his lips parted just enough to let out something of a guttural groan. “Fuck– ‘m close, sunshine. Yer doin’ so good.”

Hobie came soon after you, with a few more short rubs of his tip, he spilled out all over your hand and tummy, his cum pooling in with yours into a large, milky puddle. It was warm, a bit more viscous than yours, came out in globs that landed on your abdomen.

Hobie leaned in and kissed you once again. You melted into him, your hands cupping his face to pull him closer. “Please fuck me, Hobie.” You plead with him, panting into his mouth with a desperation you’ve never before known. You parted your legs wider, exposing yourself to him, offering yourself to him. You looked so handsome like that, legs spread and cum on your belly. “Use our cum if you have to. Please, I need it.”

He was taken aback by your eagerness to be fucked. “This’ll be ya first time bottoming, yeah?” You nod sheepishly. Hobie smiles that smile you’d usually scoff at but now, all you could do is marvel at it. You swooned at it, your lips pulling into the smallest smile of its own. “Will you let me fuck you after?” You ask in the smallest voice as if you were almost embarrassed by your request. But you couldn’t help it. “Please, I really wanna fuck you.”

“Awww ya wanna fuck me, sunshine?” Hobie crooned at you. He laughed robustly as you slapped his shoulder and turned your face away. “You can always leave, dickhead.” He kissed at your neck and chest, nipping slightly at your skin. “You don’ wan’ me t’do tha’.” Hobie continued to kiss at your neck while dragging his fingers through the puddle of cum on your tummy.

Your lips parted and a small gasp left you as the pad of his fingers circled over the tight rim of your puckered hole.

“Ya wanna prep first, jus’ tease i’ open.” Hobie pressed a singer against your hole, listening to your soft whines as his finger eased into you. The intrusion felt odd, but not bad. He whispered for you to relax. “‘M no’ gonna hurt’cha.” He gathered more cum and made sure his path was nice and slick. “‘M gonna add another finger.”

“Just do it— please.”

Hobie wasted no time sliding another slickened finger into your taut hole, his eyes watching the way you bite your lip and stifle a whimper. His fingers didn’t search for your prostate, his cock would do that work for him. He was just focused on opening you up and ensuring that you’d be ready to take him. Your hands gripped his shoulders. Your face twisted, not exactly with discomfort. It was a feeling you could get used to with time.

Hobie and that dimpled smile that grove you mad. You almost wanted to say something but every time you opened your mouth, you simply cried out. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” You were desperate, every desire you’ve ever had spilling out of your mouth, every fantasy you’ve had about him since that night in your closet. You wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him, you wanted you bodies to melt into one another.

And when Hobie pulled his fingers from your wanton hole and gathered more cum to spread down his length, you prepared yourself for an unbearable pain. You’ve seen porn like this but no one has ever been nearly as big as him. 

He placed his tip against your wet hole, looked at your face for any sign of pain, and slowly eased himself in.

Your mouth fell open and your back arched as you whimpered. You could feel him splitting you open, parting your tight walls to make space for him. Your walls were molded to his cock. Hobie groaned above you, hands gripping at your hips and thighs to ground himself. “Ya feel so good, sunshine. Bloody hell. Stay still f’me.”

But you couldn't, you wiggled and writhed with something of discomfort and pleasure. His intrusion was not exactly welcome but certainly not discouraged. The sounds that left you were ones you’ve never heard before. They were new and unknown, whiny and loud as Hobie pressed against something soft and sensitive inside you. Suddenly discomfort was welcome and you needed more.

He pressed his hips flush to yours, rolling his hips and offering shallow thrusts that made him poke and prod at that spot that made your toes curl. You tossed your head back, eyes rolling back into your head, fingernails sinking into his flesh. “Hobie, Hobie, Hobie.” You whimpered as he buckled down and pulled out only to fuck himself back into you.

Hobie was desperate, ravenous, trying so hard not to hurt you while also satisfying his need to have you. He loved the way you sang for him, your whiny moans growing higher with each thrust into your hole. You trembled and you sang and you opened your legs wider to feel him deeper if such a thing was really possible. You could feel him in your throat, choking.

Your orgasm came so quick you hardly had the chance to say anything before you were squealing, your cock leaking more cum onto your tummy with a few hard twitches. Your mind was so hazy, but you had enough sense to hide your face in the bend of your elbow to hide from the embarrassment of coming so swiftly.

You expected Hobie to laugh at you, tease you for it. But he gently took your arm from you face and leaned down to pepper kisses across your heated face. “I’s okay, sunshine. I’s ya first time. Only right you’d be sensitive.” His fingers traced up and down your side as he placed his lips on yours and kissed you with a tenderness you still couldn’t believe he was capable of.

“Y’want me t’keep goin’ or do y’want yer turn?”

He made you feel safe and comfortable. As comfortable you could be having sex with another man.

“Can you ride me? I wanna look at you.” 

Hobie chuckled, slowly pulling out of you with a pop that made you shiver. “So obsessed with me.” Your lips tugged into a lighthearted scowl that soon faded as Hobie scooped up your cum from your abdomen and reached back to prep himself, slowly sinking a finger into his ass, soon followed by another.

You watched, dazed and amazed, admiring the contours of his face as he let out a breathy little moan. Hobie smirked at you, “like what’cha see?” You didn’t have enough sass left in you to pretend that you didn’t. You just wanted him, to feel him, to make him cum like he made you cum. You wanted his pleasure, wanted him.

You sat up into a sitting position and watched as Hobie came and straddled your lap. Your hands found purchase on his boney hips and he looked into your eyes as he stroked your cock with his cum-covered hand. “Le’s see how fast I can get’cha t’cum this time.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“No’ rubbin’ i’ ya face, sunshine. I jus’ think i’s cute.” Hobie leaned down and kissed you again, just a peck that left you wanting more. He settled down and positioned your cock against his hole before slowly and carefully sinking down onto you.

It felt different than being with a woman, tighter, warmer, less wet. A moan ripped from your throat, your mouth falling open to gasp and shudder. Your hands stroked Hobie’s sides to soothe yourself. “Fuck– Hobie~ God, you feel so good.” You were gasping for air, breathless. Your cock was still sensitive. You’d cum in no time.

Hobie grinned, settling into your lap, rolling his slender hips into yours. He rode you slowly at first, drawing out noises no other person has ever made you vocalize before. He cooed at you, his lips on yours, his tongue in your open mouth. Then he rode you hard and fast, with the skill of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You were borderline pathetic. Rendered down to nothing more but a gasping, whimpering, drooling mess. You should have more self-respect, but Hobie was taking any semblance of it from you. His hole squeezed you tight, a vice grip that left your eyes rolling. “Ngh, mmh~” You were writhing beneath him, hands gripping, nails sinking into flesh.

You held Hobie close. His chest to yours, his cock slapping against your wet abdomen, his fingers laced into your hair. There was something so terribly intimate about it, how close you two were. The desperation on both parts was thick in the air, hot with the smell of sweat and sex. When Hobie stopped kissing you, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You two looked at each other and you felt as though your face had been shoved into lava.

Hobie grinded his hips down and his head lulled back. You had touched his soft spot and he let out a pretty, baritone moan. He squeezed you tight and stroked your cock softly and just as Hobie had suspected, you came, without warning. You had meant to cum on the outside, your hands attempting to push Hobie off of you when your cock began to twitch, but he seemed intent on staying.

You came inside, nice and deep, your hips shuddering. Hobie groaned, low and loud, and came onto you stomach and chest.

You both were left panting, tired and suddenly sore. Hobie looked at you, waiting for that moment where it all switches and you realize that you’ve made another mistake– where you suddenly become cold again. You looked up at him, eyes unsure but softly pleading for reassurance. “Please tell me this wasn’t a mistake.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Hobie got up off of you and sat on his heels beside you. His hands traced imaginary shapes into your cum-covered chest before leaning in to litter pecks across your face. “I’ wasn’ a mistake, sunshine. Nothin’ we did was a mistake.” His lips finally found yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. His lips soothed you.

“Le’s see where this takes us. We don’ have t’put a label on i’ righ’ now.”

You looked rather sheepish, turning your head away from him. “What if I want to put a label on it?” If you were going to do this, you wanted to do it right. You wanted Hobie to belong to you and you to belong to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you still annoy the hell out of me and sometimes I want to knock you over the head with a frying pan, but I want us to be something.”

There was that smile, that gorgeous, charming, irritating smile. It was so cocky, so arrogant, so Hobie. You adored it.

“Then le’s be something’.”

[wandasfifthwife]

only a bit shy

sevika x fem!reader

tw: 18+ MDNI, no label on relationship, reader is described to have female anatomy and be physically smaller than Sevika, smut, Sevika is sort of a mean!dom, top Sevika, bottom reader

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD. Please overlook any grammar/spelling mistakes, I’ll come back and edit later.

There needs to be a study done on why your confidence sky rocks when you’re out in public. Might it be the music, the crowd, the atmosphere, you don’t know. It’s all fun and games up until you have to reap what you sow.

Sevika blows smoke in your face, taking enjoyment in how your face scrunches from the smell. She knows you hate smoking and you know she doesn’t care.

“Sev,” you wave at the smoke, “do that in another direction.”

“What, it’s never bothered you before.”

“Well usually you aren’t this bitchy about it. This was your fifth time.”

She leans her elbow on the table and points to a couple off in the corner that are very obviously in their own world.

“I think you need half of that.”

You furrow your eyebrows, looking back to her.

“Romance?”

“No. Ignorance.”

You groan at her smug look. It was often she used strangers for entertainment.

“You’ve always been uptight, but you’re like what, 24 now?

“My birthday was last month, Sev, I’m 25.”

She huffs, “even worse.”

You ignored her comment, unintentionally continuing to look back at the couple Sevika pointed out earlier.

“They probably have some sort of exhibition kink if they’re making out like that out in public.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’m not shaming them. They’re free to do so,” she says gruffly.

You wish to ignore her by watching the bold couple yet again. Sevika picks up her drink, holding it up to her mouths.

“I have the same freedom to do the same with you,” she says into her glass.

You choke, “what?”

She motions around you. At her movement, people’s eyes shifted away from you two.

“Not one person here could interject. It’d be a free show.”

You grimace, “you’re gross.”

“Okay,” she remarks, “then what doesn’t gross you out?”

You shift in your seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable discussing such a topic in public. To think that people like the couple are so comfortable doing it in public shocks you to your core.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done anything outside of the basics. I don’t know what I would like.”

She goes quiet. The only sound between the two of you being her exhaling smoke. When the couple begins to strip clothing, you look away, cheeks reddening.

“You’re something,” she huffs, “I don’t know how you’ve gotten through a full night. You seem like the type to tuck your tail between your legs the second it starts to get heated.”

You face her completely, “absolutely not.”

“We both know how much of a liar you are.”

“Then do it.”

Your heart jumps at what you’ve told her. You pushed down reality, dismissing the depth of your words to just be plain sass talk. There’s no way it would actually, actually lead to anything.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •

You were caved against the wall, barely able to breathe before she was kissing you again. She reached under your thighs and lifted you with an ease that made you ache.

She found your bedroom, laying you down atop of your bed. When she strips her shirt, you break eye contact almost instantly.

“Eyes on me or we stop.”

You bring your eyes back to her, but only having after fidgeting with your necklace. It’s the only thing grounding you as she quite literally strips naked. Her hands come to rest on your knees, practically engulfing them.

“Thought you said you absolutely got past this part with confidence?”

“Maybe if you were better I’d—“ you cut yourself off with a surprised sound when she pulls you onto your back. Your legs dangle off the bed, your core pressed against her waist.

“You liked that didn’t you?”

She holds your thighs, leaning her body over yours to kiss you into the mattress. Your sound gets muffled against her lips, hands wrapping around her shoulders.

She runs a hand down your thigh, her thumb hooking under your pants. You give her a shallow nod and she promptly peels the fabrics off you.

“All I’ve done is kiss you and you’re already wet.”

You want to hide, hands messing with her hair to distract from the shame creeping inside you. She drags a few fingers through your folds before circling your clit. You bit at your bicep in an attempt to drown your moan.

“Don’t,” she brings your arms over your head, holding them with a single hand.

She presses a finger into you and you can’t help the way you shutter, pressing your face into the bedding beside you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” she says right before going ahead and adding another.

“Sev—“ you pant, “wait.”

She angles her fingers up, thumb pressing on your clit. You shut your eyes, back arching to press yourself further onto her fingers.

“Such a slut,” she murmurs.

She doesn’t wait, a third finger pressing its way into you. You struggle against her hand holding you down.

“It’s too much,” you babble, “don’t—“

“You really want me to stop?”

You breath a quick no, taking a few extra second to form a coherent sentence.

“I just want to touch you.”

Your wrists burn, bruises already beginning to appear when she releases them. She removes her fingers from inside you as well. She coos at your whine. Her body almost completely detaches itself from you. You sit up in curiosity and the sight again had you avoiding eye contact.

Sevika sits beside you, grabbing your hips and helping you to startle her thighs. She kisses you, your teeth clashing.

“This okay,” she asks to which you responded with a nod. She lines her strap with your entrance and pulls your hips down until it begins to make you wince.

“Can’t even fit the whole thing. What were your partners before this doing?”

You circle your hips to try to fit it all before she gets a bit impatient and fits the rest with a thrust of her hips. You scratch at her bicep, breath caught in your lungs.

“You can take it, you have before.”

“No,” you whine, “—can’t you just—.”

“If you want to be a pillow princess you shouldn’t have gotten into bed with me.”

She leans back, hands resting on the bedding instead of where you want them to.

“Please, I’ll do anything. I need you so bad.”

“So useless. Have to do everything.”

Your eyes pick with tears from relief or embarrassment or both. She flips you back to your original position and thrust into you roughly. Small moans leave you with every thrust.

“Fucking whore, made for nothing but this.”

The tears build, eventually spilling over. At this point your mind is nothing but her. The way she’s breathing, the way she’s snapping her hips into yours, the way she’s egging you on. It’s too good.

“Oh!—’m close,” you whimper.

The force of her hips pushing into yours, her finger on your clit brings you over the edge with her name on your lips.

[kiskisur]

Please, please please, I NEED a fic about a cocky famous male reader 😍

ᝰ.ᐟ I see nobody

warnings: NSFW, male reader, no pronouns mentioned, just "you", top!cyno x bottom!male reader, reader is cocky and famous while cyno is the quiet nerdy type (ikr it's hot), reader cheats on his girlfriend, praise and degradation kink, risky sex(?)

note: y'all ask and I feed fr 🙏🙏🙏 I have one more request so- have this instead!!! once again, I apologize for any mistakes because I'm not good at NSFW :)

You were undeniably famous, but your fame was often accompanied by a reputation for being cocky, rude, and yet incredibly confident. You didn't shy away from expressing your self-assuredness, sometimes coming across as arrogant or dismissive in your interactions. However, your undeniable talents and achievements contributed to your fame, even though your behavior might have rubbed some people the wrong way.

so how did you even get into this position? cyno's hand pinned you against the wall while his cock rammed in the same sweet spot that drove you crazy.

"you know.. for a cocky guy you're quite- ah.. submissive" cyno taunted, chuckling as his smirk widened when your walls clenched around his cock.

"p-please aHh~! l-let me cum!" you pleaded. your head was dizzy from all the orgasm denial as your hand began to travel down to your own cock and stroke it.

With a possessive growl escaping his throat, he swiftly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from touching your own neglected cock. His grip was firm but not painful, a clear signal that your pleasure was solely under his control.

"No, pretty boy," he commanded, his voice laced with authority. "You only get to experience release when I allow it. You are to focus solely on receiving pleasure from me. Do you understand?"

you eagerly nodded, cyno's thrusts became more vigorous, his own need mounting as he held you captive beneath him. He reveled in the way you squirmed and whimpered, your need for release evident in every fiber of your being.

"baby?"

both you and cyno froze when your girlfriend's voice pierced into the pleasure, your eyes widening as you made eye contact with cyno.

but instead of cyno stopping, his voice dropped to a low, husky tone, filled with a sense of smug satisfaction. cyno leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear before continuing his relentless assault.

"stay quiet for me, pretty boy. you don't want your girlfriend seeing you being such a whore yeah?" you shake your head no, wanting to please him in any way before your girlfriend spoke again.

"(name), where are you? you told me to meet up here!" your girlfriend yelled, her voice now full of annoyance and hurt thinking you just tricked her.

your girlfriend's footsteps echoed and grew louder at each passing second, panic and arousal rising in your body as cyno started biting and nibbling on the most visible spots on your neck.

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate, bruising kiss, a passionate hunger radiating from his every touch. cyno's hands began to roam your body, his touch igniting flames of pleasure.

"babe..? what are you doing with cyno?" It seems your girlfriend caught you now.

pt. 2? 🤭🤭

ᝰ.ᐟ nobody, but you.

[cosmal]

phoebe bridgers — send me a headcanon or a prompt + a character, and i’ll write you a blurb!

what abouttt rockstar!remus x shy!reader omg. maybe r being backstage at one of his concerts and giving him good luck kisses or something. or just whatever u want, you always have the best ideas anyway <3

a kiss

summary — you ask remus for a kiss before he goes on stage.

content — remus lupin x fem!reader, rockstar!remus, shy!reader

note — mal this was such a cute idea i love u

You sit one one of the many big speakers backstage, legs dangling over the edge, waiting for Remus to finish his conversation with his manager.

Having a boyfriend who is constantly busy, with sound checks and press junkets, song writing and concerts, it’s hard to see him when you want. Sometimes it feels terrible to want things.

Because Remus is always busy. He’s hardworking and never stops and you really admire him for it. You hate to interrupt because most of the time it’s for things you don’t really need.

Remus, can I have a hug? Remus, do you want to watch a movie on the couch tonight?

You sit with your hands in your lap, fiddling with the rings around your fingers. You spin them to distract yourself. There’s an ache in your chest that you feel like can only be soothed by Remus. You bite your tongue to hold back the urge to talk to him when he seems busy. It feels selfish and you don’t want to be.

Remus cuts his conversation short with his manager and makes his way over to you. The feeling in your chest creeps up your throat with bubbling excitement. He’s your boyfriend, he gives you every drop of attention when he can — which is always. But when he gives it to you when you feel like you don’t deserve it, it makes you feel warm.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs when he reaches you. It’s quiet and there’s thousands of fans past the wall behind you. You’re still tuned to every sound he makes.

“Hey, Remus,” you say back. You’re more than pleased when he takes your hands into his. You don’t show it though. You look solemn and Remus worries for you. Your glumness morphs into guilt when you remember you should be happy for him. Because you are — you’re ecstatic.

You still feel out of your depth whenever you’re in this situation. Behind a curtain, listening to piercing screams of your boyfriends and his band mates names. A thrumming that beats quieter than your heart most of the time.

“Are you okay?” Remus leans forward until your linked hands press into your bare legs. A heavy weight that feels necessary.

“Yeah,” you say. Then, when his fingers unfurl to press firmly into the dough of your thighs, you say, “Just feeling off today.”

He leans forward to press a kiss on the top of your nose. Then your cheek and behind your ear. Remus is a rockstar. A rockstar with a kissing pattern that he knows will have you melting.

“Yeah?” he hums into the skin below your ear. He tries to kiss away the beginnings of your goosebumps. He only makes them worse. “You should tell me these things, dove.”

You should. And you do — most of the time. When you’re in the bath together, when he makes you sit and eat dinner at your tiny two-seater table, or on his tour bus. You won’t get into how you think he likes to corner you in tiny settings and make sure you’re okay. He worries you won’t tell him if he doesn’t. But he always makes time for it.

“Not right now,” you dismiss him with a shake of your head.

“Yes, right now,” he says. Half fond, half too serious.

“You’re about to go on.” You look over his shoulder to find James sitting by the snacks table, a pair of drumsticks tapping against his jean clad thigh. You suspect Sirius is around somewhere stressing out.

“They’ll wait,” he says a little too smugly. You roll your eyes.

“Remus,” you chide.

“No, I’m serious, honey,” you might die if he keeps it up with the pet names, “what’s up?”

You lean into his chest until the top of your head hides your face. You huff and you feel a small laugh vibrate up his chest.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna play so shit out there because I’m worrying about you,” he says. You know he doesn’t mean it. It still makes you feel awful. You lean more of your weight into him.

“Stop,” you argue.

“I’m serious—“

“No, you’re not.”

He hugs your head closer to stable you. “I’m not.”

Remus let’s you sit up until he can see your face. You worry he might hold you warm face in his hands. When he’s doesn’t, you’re only mildly relieved. You don’t want to be teased about how flustered he can make you. You also want him to squeeze your cheeks.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Remus startles. “Of course.”

You get your way when he cups your face in his hands to lean down to kiss you. His lips soft and a tiny bit unsure when he does it. You grip his wrists with shaky hands and hold him closer. Only gasping into his open mouth when he pulls away.

His lips are a little wet when you open your eyes. You watch his pupils shrink back down and feel a tad amused. You feel your shy temperament dial back a bit. You know he loves you.

You smile. Remus mirrors it, though half as bright. “Is that what you wanted?”

Dazed, you blink, “What?”

He kisses you again, too short for you liking. He smiles more this time when you let out the tiniest hiccup like sound when he pulls away again. “Oh, my poor girl.”

You push him away, not as rough as you feel you should, “No,” you giggle. “No, stop it.”

“C’mere, let me kiss you again,” he laughs. You despise it. Well, you pretend to.

“No. Go play the guitar or whatever it is you do.”

You push him out with your arms, palms flat against his chest. Fingers tangled through his pretty silver chains.

“Whatever it is I do?!”

“Yeah.”

Remus turns when he hears James call his name. “Moony! C’mon!”

Remus pulls his guitar over his shoulder. Baby blue against his grey shirt. “You’re lucky,” he warns.

You push him like you aren’t sad to see him go. It never lasts long. Soon, you’ll be swelling with so much pride you won’t be able to move.

“When I come back, you’re getting it.” Remus finds it hard to pretend to threaten you. It’s worth it when you gasp, hand held to your chest.

“I’m terrified!”

Again, though this time it’s Sirius, “You’ll have all the time in the world to make out with Y/N tonight! Hurry the fuck up.” You watch him disappear behind the wall. The crowd rumbles with excitement.

“You better hurry, Moony,” you tease.

Remus leans forward to smack a kiss to your appled cheeks, turning to run off. He stops before the wall to look back to blow you a kiss. You catch it before he disappears. The crowd’s cheering grows tenfold.

[axailslink]

Fucking embarrassing

Shuri Udaku x poc plus size reader

A/n: not me accidentally deleting your request so sorry love @troiichiimera also like your thing would not @ so hopefully this finds it's way to you. Also if you are not fond of the term "big girl" please don't be shy let me know I just couldn't think of a better term. Sza like big boys I like big girls 👀 okay I'm done I'm done.

Summary: Shuri enjoys taking you out on expensive dates but sometimes less is better so you both are cuddled up on the couch when you express that you want to sit on her lap.

Shuri's kissing all over your face instead of watching the movie but it doesn't matter because neither of you ever watched the movie on movie dates. You cannot name one time where you and Shuri actually watched the whole movie. "Oh shit who died?" Shuri's eyes finally catch the screen causing you to look back with wide eyes "oh shit they killed his aunt?" You both look at each other and burst into laughter "that's not funny but why does she look like that?" You imitate her dead body pose and Shuri rolls over in laughter planting her face in your thighs. "I hate you, that's so not funny!" You laugh and gently caress her head "yet you're still laughing princess" She nods "indeed indeed." You smile at her as you both let the laughter die down and you're just staring at her. "What?" You shake your head dismissing the passing thought but she looks at you and hugs your waist. "Don't do that I'll be thinking about it all day" you stare at the TV to distract yourself from the possible embarrassment that could come rushing through your body from this question "can I sit in your lap?" She doesn't take long to reply " yeah" which causes you to look at her unsure. "The black panther can hold up to 800 pounds I am the black panther" she can see that you're still a bit unsure "I've tested it I can hold 800 pounds over my head you are nothing on my lap. So stop worrying about it and just do it." You still don't move until she grabs your waist and guides you to her lap "no difference in breathing not much strength being used my leg might fall asleep though." She smiles at you reassuring you as you sit so the way down. "See?" She avoids talking about it after that not wanting to say or do anything to make you uncomfortable but it's something about her being able to pick up more than 800 pounds that has you thinking about many things. As if she can read your mind her hands gently grip your ass "we should be watching the movie" you hum as you look down at her she just smiles "we've been watching it for an hour the movie can watch us for a bit" you're only wearing a large black T which barely covers your ass and your favorite underwear. You feel her hands rise to your waist and she gently kicks her knee up as she slowly rocks your hips against said knee. Every time you and Shuri get intimate it makes you realize just how needy you might actually be if you don't have her touch for too long. "Shuri" she shushes you as she continues to slowly guide you but you absentmindedly start to grind onto her knee yourself your head in her shoulder as you let out light whimpers and moans. She kisses down your neck gently as she feels your body start to shake and come to a slowed pace but she doesn't let you as she continues guiding you back and forth your pussy throbs and clenches around nothing as you feel your climax nearing with each passing second. You repeatedly mumble her name throughout your choked moans but she kisses you quiet as one of her hands reaches forward and rubs your clit through your underwear as if the constant rubbing wasn't enough. You come undone on her hand soaking through the cloth between you and her fingers and she kisses you. "You did so well" you can't stop the smile that spreads on your face as you look away "stop with the praise" she laughs at your immediate shyness and kisses you again "fine I won't say anything else on just how amazing you did how you kept going when you felt your climax coming or h-" you cover her mouth and shake your head "stooooop that's fucking embarrassing."

A/n: holy shit is this smut? I don't really know either way enjoy. This does not mean I'll do every smut request aight? Some of y'all mad nasty or I just ain't comfortable writing that yet.

@iwillbiteabitch

[tinytinyblogs]

Yeosang As Your Boyfriend

Boyfriend

(n.) A person who 90% of the time annoy you, and 10% of the time makes you forget the 90%

Ateez masterlist here

Yeosang is a quiet and shy person. He is not the type to say "I love you" all the time. Instead, he shows his love through his actions. He is always there for you, no matter what. He listens to you when you need to talk. He makes you laugh when you're feeling down. He does little things to make your life easier, like making you breakfast in bed or running errands for you. He is always thinking of you, and he always puts your needs before his own.

Even after dating for a long time, he will still blush like a tomato when you give him a sudden kiss. It's like his heart is racing and he can't control his emotions. He might even stammer or stutter a bit as he tries to say something. But even though he's shy, he can't hide his feelings for you. But he can also be so clingy. When he's feeling cuddly, he'll shyly pull you in close. He might wrap his arms around you and rest his head on your shoulder. Or he might just sit next to you and hold your hand. He loves the feeling of being close to you, and he doesn't want to let you go. His shyness and clinginess are two sides of the same coin. He's so passionate about you, but he's also afraid of being hurt. So he hides his feelings behind a mask of shyness. But when he's feeling safe and secure, he lets his guard down and shows you how much he cares.

He prefers to call or come over in person rather than texting. He finds it easier to communicate his thoughts and feelings when he's talking to someone face-to-face. He also feels like he can build a stronger connection with someone when he's able to see their facial expressions and hear their tone of voice. If you text him and don't get a response, it's probably because he's busy or he doesn't have his phone with him. But if you don't hear from him for a few hours, you can expect him to knock on your door. He'll probably say something like, "I'm sorry I didn't text you back. I was in the middle of something and I didn't want to interrupt." He's not trying to be rude or dismissive. He just prefers to communicate in a way that he feels is more personal and meaningful. So if you're ever in doubt, just pick up the phone and call him. He'll be happy to hear from you.

“Are you okay? I heard you’re not feeling well.' You know, Yeosang can make your heart melt every single day. I’m not gonna lie. I mean, just look at him. He’s so kind and caring, and he always knows how to make you feel better. When you’re feeling sick, he’s the first one to bring you soup or make you a cup of tea. He’ll rub your back or forehead if you’re feeling feverish. He’ll even stay up with you all night if you can’t sleep. And it’s not just when you’re sick that he’s so thoughtful. He’s always thinking of you, and he always knows how to make you smile. He’ll surprise you with your favorite flowers or a thoughtful gift. He’ll cook you your favorite meal or take you on a romantic date. I’m telling you, Yeosang is the perfect boyfriend. He’s kind, caring, thoughtful, and he can make your heart melt every single day.

Yeosang is a confident guy, so he doesn't worry about you cheating on him. He knows that you're loyal to him, and he trusts you completely. However, he's also a bit of a tease, so he's going to make fun of you if someone flirts with you. He'll probably say something like, "Oh, so you're popular now, huh?" or "I guess I need to step up my game." when he saw you getting flustered by the other guy's flirting, he couldn't help but laugh. He tried to hold it in, but he just couldn't contain himself. Eventually, you couldn't take it anymore. You turned to Yeosang and said, "Shut up, Kang Yeosang." He just laughed and said, "I'm just kidding, babe. I couldn't help it." But sometimes he's also not afraid to show his jealousy. If he sees another guy flirting with you, he'll make it clear that you're his. He might give the guy a deathly glare, or he might even drag you away. He'll probably also say something like, "He's ugly. Don't talk to him."

Yeosang is a very private person. He doesn't like to share his emotions with others, especially when he's angry. So when he's mad, he'll just give you the silent treatment. He might also avoid you and other people. This can be frustrating, but it's also a sign that he's trying to calm down. If you're ever in a situation where Yeosang is giving you the silent treatment, it's important to give him space. Don't try to force him to talk. Just let him know that you're there for him when he's ready to talk. Eventually, Yeosang will come around and explain what he's mad about. And when he does, it's important to listen to him and try to understand his point of view. If you can do that, you'll be able to resolve the argument and move on.

There was a time when Yeosang felt insecure about whether he was good enough for you or if he was making you happy. He would sit really close to you, his hand on yours, and ask you what you thought about him being your boyfriend. You thought it was a silly question because you were so happy to have him.

[ficmachine]

Hi hi! Saw you accepting requests for Wally Darling and do you think you could do general headcanons with a rly shy reader? I think Wally would adore a neighbor that can hardly speak above a whisper, and is easy to turn into a blushing mess! Big opportunities for fluff!

Wally Darling x (shy) Reader

[Headcanons - ft Wally being a considerate sweetheart]

-

Oh, Wally thinks it's absolutely adorable to have someone he can fluster in just a few words or just... By staring too long. Which happens a lot with him.

The feeling of eyes on you is definitely something to get used to.

But the felt man's very fond of eye-contact. It's hard to catch him not staring at you, or- well, everything. But mostly at you.

For the most part his gaze and focus don't stray from you when you're together unless something needs his immediate attention.

(And even when there are others around he tends to let his eyes linger longer, but not to the point where it's considered impolite to everyone else currently present.)

(Well-- Maybe sometimes.)

In the past he definitely he had to strain his ears to hear you properly, not quite used to someone so quiet. Thankfully, he's proud to say he got pretty good at listening to quieter voices since! (which is funny considering his tone of voice is also on the quieter, soft-spoken side.)

He's also very patient when it comes to waiting for your answers, and where possible he tries to simplify the questions to “Yes or no” just to make it easier on you.

Wally's not entirely sure whether or not he should speak for you in certain situations, especially when you look visibly uncomfortable in the moment. He's done so in the past, though.

If others ask you to repeat yourself (sometimes multiple times - he's seen just how uneasy it makes you; and sometimes you just dismiss whatever you said entirely. He's seen how upsetting that can get) he most likely will repeat what you said.

He can't relate very well to those situations, but he's more than happy to help out.

He might not realise that him doing so can sometimes be the cause of further upset, too, though.

One thing Wally won't do though – and if he himself he profusely apologises – is talk over you. He also doesn't like when others speak over you or completely ignore your attempts at joining a conversation.

He will quite literally halt whatever conversation was going on just to let you speak and/or join the conversation properly if you want to.

He's actually grown surprisingly considerate about it and often gives you openings to conversations you might not be a part of.

Shy or not, it's rude to leave someone out even if they're just listening.

[bbobpul]

being with you doesn't feel like drowning — lmk

PAIRING. bff!mark lee x bff!reader SUMMARY. reader tries to confess to mark in hopes that their feeling will disappear once they let it out of their chest. GENRE. angst, unrequited love, best friends to strangers, reunion W/C. 3.4k NOTE. i love boygenius so it's mandatory to listen to cool about it while reading FOR THE FEELS (0.0)!→ my other works

certain people from our youth leave an indelible mark on us, whether they are senior role models, acquaintances who brighten our days, or individuals who meant so much but eventually drifted apart. their presence, guidance, and impact shape our experiences and stay with us long after we part ways, reminding us of the significance of human connections and the lasting effects they have on our lives.

surely one of the saddest experiences but the best stories to tell.

mark lee is undoubtedly an incredibly lovable person. many people who know him would agree wholeheartedly. he embodies kindness and provides a comforting presence that draws people towards him. mark is like a ray of sunshine, approachable and warm.

in my personal experience, he has been a significant source of support during my college journey. his friendly demeanor attracts people, and many individuals wish to befriend him. some are too shy to approach him directly, so they often approach me as a way to connect with him, like a bridge to his vibrant social circle.

when i first entered high school, i had certain expectations of what mark lee might be like based on stereotypical characters from tv shows—cocky and popular. however, i quickly discovered that mark was different. despite any changes that high school brought, he remained the same kid i had grown up with.

i vividly remember the times when he would run to me for support when kids from our neighborhood were being mean to him. he trusted me enough to confide in me when his first crush rejected him, not knowing that i was also on the verge of tears myself. mark lee is someone who is so easy to love, and that's what makes him incredibly difficult to forget.

his genuine and vulnerable nature, his loyalty and trust in our friendship, have left a lasting impression on me. mark's authenticity and ability to connect on a deeper level are what set him apart. despite the ups and downs, he remains a constant presence in my life, a person i hold dear in my heart.

i consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been noticed by mark in a way that felt truly special, surpassing the attention he gave to others he met during high school. it was a privilege that should have brought me immense gratitude, yet i couldn't help but harbor a conflicting desire for something more. in my heart, i battled with feelings of self-doubt and yearning, torn between appreciating the unique connection we shared and longing for a deeper bond that seemed just out of reach.

sitting on the benches near the school gates with my friend donghyuck, i couldn't contain the overwhelming emotions within me any longer. "i really love him, hyuck. so much," i confessed, my voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and excitement. it was a quiet moment between the two of us, as we had been dismissed early from school due to our lazy professor. as we waited for mark, who had some errands to run, i seized the opportunity to confide in donghyuck, trusting him with my deepest feelings and hoping for some guidance or understanding in return.

his response took me aback. "that sucks, man," he said, his words carrying a sense of sympathy. i stared at him in disbelief, hoping for some encouragement or guidance, but his straightforward suggestion caught me off guard. "just tell him," he continued, his voice laced with conviction. "it probably will disappear once you get your feelings off your chest."

"it won't. i know it won't work," i replied, my voice tinged with a sense of resignation. i recalled my previous attempts to convey my feelings to mark, even if it was in a lighthearted manner, and the lingering affection that persisted throughout the years. graduation was approaching, yet this feeling had taken root long before i even set foot in the halls of our school.

as the weight of my unrequited feelings continued to burden me, i added another layer of complexity to the situation. "i also can't tell him right now," i confessed, a hint of frustration evident in my voice. "he's apparently involved with this girl from stem."

"did he tell you that?" he asked, his voice filled with skepticism.

"no," i replied, realizing that i had simply heard it through the grapevine without any confirmation from mark himself.

"then it's not true," hyuck asserted, his words resonating with a sense of certainty. i looked at him, a glimmer of hope flickering within me.

"you are his best friend, y/n," he continued, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "if he likes someone, you'll be the first one he'll talk to. sadly." his words struck a chord, emphasizing the closeness of my friendship with mark and the trust we shared.

hyuck's words resonated deeply within me, stirring a newfound determination. "try, y/n," he urged, his voice filled with encouragement.

and try, i would. i made up my mind to release the weight of my unspoken emotions, regardless of whether or not mark would reciprocate my feelings. it was no longer about seeking validation or hoping for a specific outcome. instead, it was about freeing myself from the burden of unexpressed affection, allowing my heart to find solace in the act of honesty. i realized that true liberation lay in the courage to let my emotions be known, even if it meant accepting the possibility of unrequited love.

as fate would have it, just as i resolved to confront my feelings and open myself up to vulnerability, the universe seemed to conspire in its own mischievous way. "y/n," a familiar voice called out, capturing my attention. there he was, mark lee, waving at me with an infectious smile adorning his face.

my heart skipped a beat as a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through me. it was as if the universe was testing my newfound resolve, presenting me with an opportunity to seize the moment. with a deep breath, i mustered the courage to meet his gaze, ready to embark on a journey that would reveal the truth of my emotions and pave the way for whatever lay ahead.

"hey, man," mark greeted donghyuck with a warm smile before his attention shifted towards me. his eyes locked with mine, and he uttered those words that sent a surge of anticipation through me, "let's go home?"

his invitation caught me off guard, my heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him. it's not like this is the first time we are walking home together. without hesitation, i nodded, my own smile mirroring his. "sure, let's go," i replied, unable to conceal the excitement bubbling within me.

as we bid farewell to donghyuck at the school gates, mark and i ventured further into the outside world. the sun gently kissed our faces as we strolled side by side, our footsteps creating a harmonious rhythm. in that moment, mark's words washed over me, his voice filled with a warmth and sincerity that melted my heart.

"let's just walk, hmm?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a hint of playfulness. "i didn't see you much today, so i want to spend more time with you." it was a simple request, but it held profound meaning for me. this was the side of mark that had always made me swoon—the one who sought my company, who cherished our moments together. the tenderness in his words enveloped me, igniting a sense of belonging and significance.

as we walked side by side, heading towards home, i couldn't help but wonder if this would be the moment to gather my courage and express what had been weighing on my heart. it was a chance to lay bare my feelings and discover where our paths might converge. with each step, the anticipation grew, filling the air with a mix of hope, apprehension, and the promise of a newfound chapter in our intertwined lives.

as if synchronized by an invisible thread connecting our hearts, the words escaped our lips simultaneously, "i want to tell you something." a moment of lighthearted surprise passed between us before a shared smile graced our faces.

with a gentle nod, i urged mark to speak first, my curiosity piqued and a warmth of anticipation spreading within me. i wanted to hear what he had to say, to immerse myself in his world of thoughts and emotions.

"hmm, i'm sure you already heard about the rumors," my heart sank as mark began to speak, his words hit me like a wave of disconnection, momentarily distancing us. despite my own hopes, i forced myself to listen, desperately clinging to the possibility that he would deny it.

"and before you scold me, i'm sorry, okay?" he interjected, a touch of remorse coloring his words. "i'm sorry for not telling you first. it's just that you've been so busy with your debate stuff. but yes, the rumors are true." his words were filled with a sense of happiness, but inside, i felt a pang of sadness. i wanted to push my own feelings aside, to let him speak and find solace in his words, even if it meant disregarding my own desires and wishes.

in the brief silence that followed mark's confession, my mind raced to process the reality of his words. one, two, three seconds passed as i grappled with a mix of emotions. however, before i could fully retreat into my thoughts, mark's voice broke through the haze, calling my name and snapping me back to reality.

"that's cool, mark," i managed to say, mustering a tone of enthusiasm, despite the conflicting emotions swirling within me. his smile widened, and for a fleeting moment, i allowed myself to believe that i had successfully masked my true feelings. in that instant, his happiness became my focus, setting aside my own desires to ensure his joy remained undisturbed.

"what was it that you wanted to say?" mark inquired, his curiosity urging me to share my thoughts.

"ah," i stammered, desperately searching for words to divert the conversation. "you know, i just wanted to mention that my debate commitments have been overwhelming lately, and i feel like i need some rest." i fabricated an explanation, my mind struggling to conjure up plausible details. but as the words left my lips, my thoughts turned into a blank canvas, drained of any creative energy. mark continued speaking, presumably attempting to uplift my spirits, but his words became distant and muffled as my focus waned.

lost in my own internal turmoil, i unknowingly made my way inside my house, the outside world fading into the background. the weight of my unspoken truth settled heavily upon my shoulders, leaving me to contemplate the consequences of my silence and the disconnection i felt in that moment.

the vibration of my phone jolted me back to reality. retrieving it from my pocket, i discovered a message from mark. the words on the screen were like a lifeline, a gentle reminder of his unwavering support.

from mark

you will do great, i just know. there's nothing you can't do, y/n.

lying on my bed, i attempted to convince myself that everything was okay, that i could handle this situation with composure. it was just a simple crush, i reassured myself, something that could be dismissed and forgotten. i resolved to force myself to let go, to erase the thoughts of him from my mind.

deep down, i yearned for him to kindly leave my thoughts, to release his hold on my heart. with these conflicting emotions swirling within me, i drifted off to sleep that night, whispering to myself that one day, perhaps, i would forget about it, though uncertain if that day would ever truly arrive.

as ten years elapsed, bringing us to the present, the time had come for our high school reunion, an event i had initially considered skipping. donghyuck, however, was relentless in his insistence that i attend. inwardly, i grappled with my own reservations, questioning the root of my hesitation. after all, they were just old friends, right? well, except for mark. but it had been a decade since we last saw each other, and i reminded myself that everything had changed. including my feelings.

with a deep breath, i resolved to face the reunion head-on. it was an opportunity to reconnect with familiar faces and witness the transformations that time had wrought upon us all. i steeled myself, ready to navigate the evening with a newfound sense of confidence, curious to see how the passage of years had molded us into the individuals we had become. and in the back of my mind, a flicker of anticipation remained, wondering what the encounter with mark, the person who once held my heart, would bring.

as i arrived at the reunion, i was greeted by the familiar voice of donghyuck. a smile crossed my lips as i took in his playful remark. "y/n!" he exclaimed, his playful tone resonating in the air. "wow, you smell successful." it was a lighthearted comment, one that instantly brought back a flood of memories and reminded me of the bond we shared. i couldn't deny that i missed him, our friendship, and the easy banter we once had.

donghyuck then reminded me of the gathering, informing me that everyone was already seated and eagerly awaiting our arrival. it was a gentle nudge to set aside any remaining hesitations and fully embrace the moment. with a renewed sense of excitement, i followed donghyuck, ready to reunite with old friends and embark on a journey of reminiscence and rediscovery.

amidst the flurry of greetings from both familiar and unfamiliar faces, a part of me remained focused on one person. as i exchanged pleasantries and engaged in small talk, my heart quietly longed for the presence of that one individual. amongst the laughter and conversations that filled the room, i found myself eagerly awaiting the moment when our paths would cross once again.

time seemed to stretch as i scanned the room, searching for that familiar face that held so much significance in my life. each passing moment heightened the anticipation, the longing growing stronger with every passing second. it was as if the reunion revolved around the hope of reconnecting with this particular person, and i couldn't deny the depth of emotion that coursed through me.

in the midst of the gathering, surrounded by old memories and new conversations, i patiently held onto the belief that this encounter held the potential to reignite a flame that had flickered in my heart for years.

"hey, y/n." the sound of my name, uttered in a familiar voice, sent a shiver down my spine. i turned around, my heart racing, and there he was—the man i had loved for years and spent a decade trying to forget. as my gaze met his, i couldn't help but notice the changes that time had wrought upon him. he exuded a sense of maturity, yet his smile remained as captivating as ever, instantly evoking memories of our shared youth.

in that moment, a flood of emotions washed over me, overwhelming yet undeniably familiar. it was as if time stood still, and the weight of our past connection resurfaced with an undeniable intensity. the years apart seemed to fade away as we stood face to face, and i found myself drawn back to a time when his presence had filled my world with warmth and excitement.

as we locked eyes, an unspoken language passed between us, encapsulating a history of shared experiences and unspoken feelings. the passage of time had only deepened the significance of our connection, and in that instant, i couldn't help but wonder if the lingering embers of our past love had the potential to reignite into something more.

"it's nice to see you again," he said, his words carrying a hint of longing, as if he had missed me deeply. the sincerity in his voice echoed through my being, reigniting the familiarity of our connection.

"wanna catch up outside?" he asked, his eyes flickering towards the serene seaside just beyond the venue, as if beckoning us to a place where we could find solace in each other's company.

a surge of anticipation swept over me, my heart yearning for a chance to reconnect and unravel the mysteries of the past decade. "mark, it's so nice to see you here," i replied, a genuine smile playing on my lips. "sure, let's go."

with each step we took towards the peaceful seaside, it felt as if we were embarking on a journey to rediscover the unspoken words and unfulfilled promises of our youth. the possibilities lay open before us, as the waves whispered tales of past memories and the sea breeze carried the promise of a shared future.

"you suddenly disappeared after we graduated, why is that?" he asked

"i'm sorry, mark. something personal came up that we had to move." i answered and then silence engulfed us.

"how have you been?" i asked, my voice filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of apprehension. his response held the power to shape the course of our conversation, and i braced myself for the unexpected.

a faint smile graced his lips, revealing a glimmer of excitement and anticipation. it was a smile reminiscent of a child eager to share a significant achievement with their parents—a smile that hinted at something significant he wanted to convey. i couldn't help but notice the contrast between his current demeanor and the person i was ten years ago. back then, i would have approached this moment with unguarded optimism, but the passage of time had taught me to temper my expectations, shielding myself from potential hurt.

deep down, i acknowledged that there was a part of me prepared for disappointment, a defense mechanism against the potential pain that might follow. however, despite the self-imposed caution, i couldn't deny the flicker of hope that ignited within me, yearning for a connection that transcended the confines of time.

"i'm getting married in december," he said, his words cutting through the air with a bittersweet tone. his smile remained, but it was now tinged with a mixture of joy and sadness. "i'm so glad to see you today, y/n. you could be a part of my big day."

those words hit me like a wave, crashing against the fragile walls i had built to protect myself. the shards of my shattered heart from ten years ago seemed to reassemble, piercing me once more. the pain i thought i had long left behind resurfaced with an intensity i never anticipated.

the conflicting emotions within me waged a silent battle. on one hand, i wanted to be genuinely happy for him, to embrace the joy of his upcoming union. but on the other, a deep ache echoed within my soul, a longing for a different outcome, for a future where our paths intertwined.

as i absorbed the weight of his announcement, i mustered a smile, my voice trembling slightly. "congratulations, mark. i'm truly honored that you would consider me to be a part of your special day." behind my polite words, i hid the remnants of a broken heart, the realization that the pain of unrequited love had found its way back to me once again.

"and it's really nice to see how good you're doing. how far you've come. i am so proud of you, mark."

a heavy sigh escaped my lips as i grappled with the weight of my emotions. in that moment, i yearned to be selfish, to put my own desires and feelings first. but deep down, i knew the truth—i never had any rights to claim. i had been living in the shadows of unrequited love, forever playing the role of the understanding friend, while my heart silently yearned for something more.

method acting had become my expertise, allowing me to wear a mask of indifference, concealing the turmoil that raged within me. i mastered the art of pretending, adept at hiding the fact that being in his presence felt like a constant struggle to keep my head above water. i told him it was nice to see how well he was doing, but beneath the surface, the truth lingered, like an unspoken ache.

in the depths of my soul, i acknowledged the bitterness that threatened to consume me. it was a bitter truth that whispered in the recesses of my mind—i still loved him, and witnessing his happiness with someone else was a constant reminder of what i could never have. but i couldn't allow those feelings to tarnish the moments we shared, so i continued to play the role of the supportive friend, my true emotions concealed beneath the facade.

[girlreblogger]

and then there were 3 💿

don’t get mad. i’m saying what needs to be said and this the last time.

the blk yn “stereotypical” stories are self indulgent and the relationships are unfulfilling and unhealthy. yeah. 

i never mentioned fully the stereotype thing that’s associated with blk yn fics and that’s because i have never really understood what ppl meant by it. and this isn’t to be funny towards the ppl that say that abt those certain fics.

i somewhat? get what ppl mean by yn is written as a stereotype when it comes to the toxicity in fics but because these stories are written by blk women for blk women who feel comfortable with those types of behaviors, dynamics and relationships i feel it shouldn’t be seen as blk women writing themselves as stereotypes because the comfortability with that idea of relationships comes from somewhere and it’s not no stereotype. 

stereotype: 1. a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person

that word itself just projects an idea on those ppl and (not to use a buzz word but) dehumanizes them. it dilutes and dismisses the perception and character those women see themselves as and i don’t personally think that okay. 

lots of ppl are accustomed to or find comfort in certain dynamics and behaviors for so many different and very personal reasons. (whether extreme or not.) without even knowing sometimes we all do or have because we are still ppl at the end of the day. so chalking up someone’s humanness to a stereotype is unfair to me. it’s the same shit that ppl did to us back in the day and still do till this day and i find it unnecessary to do amongst ourselves.

that’s why i chose to say the relationships in those books and fics are unfulfilling. the dynamics, behaviors and all that ain’t healthy. if we being real. and that’s more than just a stereotype. i also dk what ppl mean by her being a stereotype in particular. maybe being extroverted? ion know. 

but ppl who want to write those things are going to do what they want but that doesn’t mean..

blk women don’t deserve or that it’s impossible for us to have more exposure to more fluffy and healthy dynamics in books with us as the main leads (also all blk ppl cause not just women read books obvi and want fluffy romance that’s another convo tho). it’s also important we showcase blk girls in various ways because we all are very different.

**we should keep in mind a fictional! character we call blk yn can be a ya (young adult) so mistakes and learning experiences in fics aren’t always useless. (though it seems we’ve had enough of it im just saying)

with different ways of thinking, with different styles, quirks, and personalities. right now it’s mostly coquettes, bimbos, and baddies being written almost similarly each time. and that’s perfectly fine but i think there’s something else that ppl are wanting to see but i would like to know what exactly.

do you guys want see her in different styles? talking differently? as an ambivert or a shy girl? someone who doesn’t talk much or someone who does? like what would be the opposite of the “stereotypes” you normally see?

and how can we as a community make some kind of change to see ourselves differently.

those few ppl when i said “as a community”

don’t get quiet now. 

but honestly, because of that maybe give writers prompts and requests with what you’d like to read. there are many writers who always have requests open and lots of times those asks are some of their most popular posts!

ppl started only reading or getting used to smutty and plug books cause that’s all there was, (there was an influx at the time) especially since 2020. that’s also when the blk fic community began to grow so there were more blk fics and writers than it used to be. so maybe we can try and do that with fluffy, fantasy and wtv other fics. 

**also there are some really good books on kindle for you guys to try with blk girls as the lead that might be interesting for you. here’s some of my suggestions: sunny disposition! and excuse me while i ugly cry! (these are just from the top of my head)

i personally have noticed so much about myself from reading more wholesome stories and stuff so reading other fics or books sometimes isn’t for me. it’s books i’ve read that i look back at and see how much i have grown from what i used to be into. that’s why i don’t reblog as much anymore too because i want to find more that is more personally up my alley.

so yeah let’s just try and find and create more books that are healthier. blk girls deserve love, kindness, to be treated gently not weak (or a like a child) and have sweet stories. stories and portrayals that heal us.

we can have suspense, drama, mystery, ups and downs, and even rain but i think a lot of us just want the sunshiney stuff. maybe that way we can digest the suspenseful and dramatic stories (that aren’t toxic) in a better way.

like i said in my last post we read and write for comfort so i think we can use this as a way to heal ourselves as well.

ps. (even some “healthy stuff” can be unhealthy lowkey but that’s another convo) 

muah

also thanks for all the likes on my previous posts! i was nervous ppl wouldn’t understand what i was trying to say but the good feedback has definitely given me confidence!

no bars

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done (1/2)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: This is part one of a two-parter, the next will be mostly smut lmao. Thank you for reading! I would love any feedback or comments and dont forget to reblog if you feel so inclined!!!

Masterlist

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

---

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

---

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

—

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

---

Jake’s appearance in the women’s locker room should startle you more than it does. As it stands, you barely even bat an eyelash when you spot him all of a sudden in the mirror behind you, like he was enacting some sort of horror movie jumpscare. It doesn’t really have that effect on you though, his presence nowadays is both common enough and exciting enough that he holds your rapt attention whenever he’s around.

In the mirror behind you, he stands at a casual lean against the row of locker doors, making sure to face you, but also making sure he has the opportunity to rifle through your locker, get a good look at the things you kept in there.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding less scolding and more genuinely curious, which is a point against you as far as you’re concerned. You turn from the mirror and move back toward your locker, replacing the small toiletries bag you kept with you inside. Jake doesn’t move a muscle, standing exactly in the same position, which meant that now he was practically leaning over you, crowding your space in that way he did sometimes just to make you flustered.

You were long past the point of it really working though, now you revelled in it just as much as he seemed to, eager for any small moment where you had an excuse to be so close to him. Especially at work.

You blink up at him doe-ishly, finding his gaze exactly where you expected it to be, which is trained on your face. His signature smirk grows slightly as he meets your eye, and your stomach explodes in a flurry of butterflies and fireworks at the way he seems to either consciously or subconsciously lean even further in toward you, completely dwarfing you now. It makes you feel small in the best way possible, and you have to actively work to put aside the thoughts of his big hands at your waist, and other such things that make your legs go all wobbly.

“Say, you don’t happen to have any plans for the fourteenth, do you?” Jake ignores your question entirely, but you’re not bothered by it, too caught up now on his own query.

“The fourteenth?” you ask, a little dumbly, racking your mind for something you may have forgotten, which you know is the correct course of action thanks to the amusement currently playing out on his very handsome features.

“Valentine’s Day?” Jake supplies for you eventually, putting you out of one misery and into another.

“You want to do something on Valentine’s Day?” you’re not sure which part of his suggestion you’re not getting, but you do know that something isn’t quite clicking. Jake’s features soften only slightly, and he bends his face even closer to yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly before back to your eyes.

“Mhmm. If my girlfriend is alright with that?” Jake practically purrs the words, and they reverberate down your spine, making you blink rapidly.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him call you that, although you do note that he definitely shouldn't be doing it at work, considering none of your friends and colleagues know about the two of you yet.

“Y-yes, she is fine with that…” you reply, doing your best not to sound as lovesick as you felt. Jake lifts an eyebrow and turns his body in toward you even more, almost bringing your chests to touch now.

“Just ‘fine’? Sweetheart, I am hoping to get more of a reaction than that,” he again makes a show of trailing his eyes up and down your face, and you feel yourself swallow thickly.

“After all,” Jake continues, lifting an arm now to rest against the locker above your head, actually crowding your space now. “I believe we had a discussion about exactly how Valentine’s Day would play out, around… four weeks ago?” Jake makes a humming noise, as if he himself didn’t remember clearly, despite everything else about his delivery saying otherwise.

Your lips part ever so slightly as you recall the conversation he’s referring to, a heat crackling over your skin when you realise that, despite you not remembering it until now, this had clearly been something Jake was looking forward to.

You definitely were too, now.

“Thank you, Jake… tonight was really great,” you cringe a little at how scripted the words sound, but when you look up at where Jake stands just behind you, waiting for you to slot your key into your door, he’s only gazing down at you in a way that makes you immediately drop them. The sound makes you jump and turn away, but before you can clumsily begin apologising and scooping them up, Jake takes a slight step forward, never breaking your eye contact even as he swipes your fallen keys from your feet.

He’s right in front of you now, still slightly bowed over so that his face hovers right in front of yours as if by accident, though you know it's anything but. You can’t even bring yourself to move, as much as these dates had you a little off-kilter still, you couldn't deny the fact that your feelings for the man in front of you had been increasing exponentially, in a way that was becoming harder and harder to physically hold back from.

You don’t even mean to, but your eyes drop to his lips for several beats, transfixed until you force yourself to look away again. You part your own lips, getting ready to say something, anything, but Jake sees your wandering gaze for what it is, and doesn’t let you ruin the moment.

Instead, Jake surges forward, the hand not holding your keys moving to cup the side of your face, and at the same time, stands to his full height once more, the space previously still left between you now completely nonexistent as you find yourself pushed up against your door.

You’ve had relationships in the past, but you had never, ever, been kissed like this before, all heat and fire and what you can only describe as desire. However, as that thought sets in, you find that oddly, it doesn’t fluster you like you think it should, or would have. In fact, for the first time in a really long time, you don't feel any of your normal anxieties or nerves. Everything is replaced by the knowledge that Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is currently pressing his body against yours, his hands carefully starting to roam a little and how much you want everything that that strong grip of his promises.

Unfortunately, that's when the one useful anxiety you have left returns to you, and just as always, you can’t bring yourself to ignore it like you so badly wish you could.

It takes only a slight push against Jake’s chest for him to pull away from you, though it's as though he can’t bring himself to go far at all. He stares down at you, lips kiss-swollen and his face so close still that you swear if he blinks, you’ll feel his lashes brush your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice is incredibly gravely and rough and the sound of it alone is almost enough to push you back in toward him.

“I’m sorry– I just–” the rising panic in your voice makes Jake shift again, though he still doesn’t detach himself from you entirely, he does move his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“We– We work together, and I don’t do this often–ever, actually, and I just don’t want to get into something where we can’t come back from, because I’m actually really starting to like you, a lot, and I know this is a thing normal people totally do all the time– sleep together I mean– but you’re just so– and I’m– and I–”

“Hey, it’s alright, calm down,” Jake’s stern ‘work’ voice startles you a bit, but just like always, he seems to know exactly what it is you need. You blink up at him, realising you’re clinging tightly to his forearms, and he’s looking down at you with so much concern and care you could almost just start crying.

“It’s alright, Miri,” Jake continues after a moment, lifting one hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek again. You stare at him, your brows furrowing into a frown.

“Alright? You’re not– you don’t mind that I don’t want to sleep with you?”

Jake’s lips quirk, and he rolls his eyes a little.

“Miri, the only thing I want more than to take you inside and continue this with far less clothing, is for you to want that too. So, no, I don’t mind.”

You keep staring up at him, unsure of how to proceed now, but once again, Jake swoops in.

“You want to give it time?” he asks, earning a nod from you, but you suddenly feel the need to reassure him of your own affections.

“Just to be clear, this isn’t me not wanting to have sex with you!” you state quickly, earning a somewhat confused frown from the man still cupping your cheek. “I mean, I do, that’s not an issue, my problem is specifically just… rushing into this, when we work together. Our jobs are so high-stress as it is, I just think it would be better to… I’m not sure, ease into it I guess…”

You’re glad you made a point of explaining yourself, because Jake’s face flashes with brief understanding, and his approach seems to switch tact.

“Well…” he clears his throat. ���That’s still alright, but it does make it a whole lot harder to resist, I have to tell you,” you know he’s only half serious, but the way he looks at you in the dim lighting of your porch sends your insides twisting and curling.

“So… when do you think it will stop being ‘too soon’?” Jake asks lightly, but you do think it’s an entirely fair question given that you are asking him to wait for you.

“A few weeks? I’m not sure, I just…” you trail off, but watch as Jake appears to do some mental maths, and then his face lights up, his grin pulling his lips in a rather distracting way.

“Valentine's Day?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Before you can verbally agree, his mood seems to shift, and he’s leaning in a little closer again, lowering his voice. “I’ll take you out, real fancy, suit and tie dress code, you’ll get to wear something slinky and I’ll pretend the way I keep touching you is an accident all night.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Jake crowds in closer to you as he speaks, looking over you as if the things he’s describing were visible to him right now.

“Then, I’ll take you back to mine, maybe I’ll be presumptuous and buy you some lacy little underthings to wear for me, and–” He seems to snap out of the intensity all of a sudden, smirking down at you and cocking his head at your dazed and almost drooling expression.

“Well, the rest is a secret, but for now, let's just pencil all that in, hmn?”

“S-so, what did you have planned?” you bite your lip a little and reach past him to grab a scrunchie from your locker, but before you can slip it onto your wrist, Jake takes it off of your and begins combing your hair back himself. You stand and watch him dumbly as he does, already blanking out when his fingers seem to tighten ever so slightly as he gathers a ponytail at the base of your neck, and tugs.

You almost let out a pitiful little sound at the feeling, but unfortunately you aren’t able to control the fluttering of your eyes the same way. Jake smirks above you as he slips the scrunchie off his wrist and secures your hair into a somewhat regulation bun, all the while still grinning down at you. You want to tell him to screw valentines day and screw you now, but you manage to keep your mouth shut long enough for him to answer your question.

“I’ve already told you too much. Just be ready by seven. Wear something slinky for me, yeah?” he murmurs, letting his hands fall from the back of your head to your waist where he pulls you in.

“Alright,” you confirm, mind already wandering to what on earth you had in your closet right now that would fit the bill of ‘slinky’ and deciding that you were probably going to have to go shopping.

“Don’t worry about the lacy things,” Jake says softly, lips now ghosting over yours as he speaks, though he hasn’t broken your eye contact once yet. “I’ve already got that covered.” He says, making you go blank again.

The thought, no, the mere idea that Jake has bought you lingerie to wear, and that he wanted to see you in it, makes you want to vibrate right out of the room, and possibly several times around the planet, but you manage to resist, and instead just swallow heavily, and nod.

Jake grins wide, no longer smirking cheekily, his smile is nothing but warmth now, and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Great,” he says, giving your waist a squeeze, and you a tiny peck on the lips before he pulls away. “Now, I gotta get outta here before I get court-martialed.”

You snort as he spins on his heel and heads toward the door, but turns back and gives you a lazy salute and wink before he leaves.

When you’re certain that he’s gone, you let out a sigh and fall back against your locker, your heart thumping wildly along in your chest as you mull over your upcoming plans. The thought of shopping enters your mind once again, and you hum to yourself. Reaching for your throne, you shoot off a text to your group chat with Phoenix and Halo, and hope they won’t ask too many questions about your Valentine’s plans.

[fruitylo0pz]

Caretaker

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut (fluff towards the end), dom!Larissa, fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on

A/N: I am so sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. I have been working on this for some time, and I am not 100% satisfied with it, but I just haven't felt very inspired or motivated lately so I pushed myself to finish this. Both because I wanted to post something for my readers and followers but also to get back into it! As always, there might be some errors and mistakes, but I hope you enjoy.

Word count: ~2.8k

-----

You had been working at Nevermore as a caretaker for about a month now, and the job was pretty straightforward except you were the only normie and your boss was a gorgeous woman you felt yourself infatuated with. You thought you had seen her looking at you, but you dismissed the thoughts just as quickly. What would she see in you? You had barely spoken to her other than when she needed something fixed in her office or she had specific tasks for you. You were shy and quiet, and she had a dominating presence. You had your own quarters in the staff hall, and you had just gotten out of the shower after a long day when you received an email from Principal Weems, asking you to come to her office. You were afraid someone had complained, not that you could think of anything you had done. It was just your immediate way of thinking, that someone had made complaints or she wasn’t happy with the way you did your job. You got dressed and anxiously walked to her office.

You knocked on the door, and she opened it with a smile. “Please come in, Y/N. I’m sorry, I know it’s late and you have no obligation to be here. I should have mentioned that in the email.” You smiled nervously and nodded before you walked into her office and sat down in the chair in front of her desk. 

You were hesitant to speak, but you also wanted to know if you had done something wrong. “P-Principal Weems, I am sorry if you aren’t satisfied with my work. Has anyone made any complaints?” You fiddled with your thumbs, realising your hands were shaking like crazy.

She chuckled and tilted her head. “Oh, Y/N. No! I am so sorry if you have been worried about that. I simply wanted to get to know you better. I have noticed that you seem to spend most of your time alone, and if that is something you prefer I respect that. I was worried that you might feel lonely. I know you’re new in town, and you always fascinated me. And please, call me Larissa.” She smiled and you couldn’t quite figure out what the look on her face meant.

“Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that pr- I mean… Larissa. I’m settling in well. I’m just not very social, and I am pretty shy and reserved so I don’t mind spending my days alone. A caretaker job seemed perfect for me, because I don’t have to interact with people too much. I do appreciate you inviting me here, though! Don’t get me wrong. I would like to get to know you better too.” You blushed and immediately looked down, fiddling even more erratically with your fingers. You weren’t used to being so open, and especially with someone like her. You had a crush on her that had lasted since the moment you saw her, and the thoughts you had about her were anything but pure and appropriate. 

“There is nothing wrong with that, Y/N. I am pretty much of a loner myself. Partially because my job gets tiring and solitude is a blessing at times, and the job doesn’t make you too popular. Being the headmistress means making decisions not everyone will be too happy about at times. Would you like a glass of wine, Y/N? I was just about to open a bottle, and it would be nice with company for once.” She looked at you with a gentle smile that made you melt and you found yourself blushing.

“Yes, please. Thank you, that would be lovely.” You were relieved that she asked, because you figured you might be less awkward and nervous with some wine in your system and sharing it with her was even better.

“Let’s move to the sofa. Sitting here by my desk feels so formal.” She went and poured two glasses of wine before you both moved to the sofa, and when her hand brushed over yours as she handed you the glass you felt yourself gasping softly. You had never been this close to her before.

You caught her eyeing you up, but you brushed it off. It was probably nothing. “So, Y/N. What do you like to do when you’re not at work? And what brought you to Jericho? If you don’t mind me asking. If it’s too personal, please let me know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She looked at you with a curious look on her face, and you knew she genuinely wanted to know. 

“Well, I mostly read, hike or tend to my plants. I also like running. I guess I’m pretty boring, but I find that it’s important to fill your time with things you like instead of things society thinks you should be doing. I did that for too long and it drained me. I moved here after my girlfriend broke up with me after she had cheated. I forgave her, but she did it again and then she broke up. I moved to New York because of her, not knowing anyone else and her friends and I didn’t get along too well. So I had to get away. Then I saw the posting here, and I grabbed the opportunity. I am still so grateful.” You found yourself surprised by your openness. It wasn’t like you to open up like that and you had always been an introvert, but it felt surprisingly liberating. She made you feel safe, and it felt good to have someone show such genuine interest in you. You did however feel like you had given her far more than she asked for and it made you feel slightly anxious.

“Your hobbies are pretty similar to mine, Y/N! I like quiet hobbies, and you’re right. Your life is yours and you should fill it with things you like. I am so sorry to hear about your girlfriend. She clearly didn’t deserve you. I am happy you took the chance, because I have been so happy with the work you do here. Your ex-girlfriend must have been a fool. You deserve someone that appreciates you.” She laid her hand on yours, and you immediately felt yourself getting warmer. Just the touch of her hand and her words was enough for your panties to dampen.

“T-thank you, Larissa.” You were nervous, and you found yourself speechless. Your brain couldn’t form a proper sentence and you felt yourself blushing again.

Larissa moved closer to you and the way she was sitting revealed her red lace bra due to her slightly unbuttoned blouse and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. She put her finger under your chin to lift it and her eyes met yours. You thought you could see a hint of lust in her eyes, and it made you even more certain when she rested her hand on your thigh. 

“You know, Y/N. Forgive me for being bold, but I have wanted you ever since I laid my eyes on you when you showed up for your interview. There is just something about you that I find so extremely attractive.” Her voice was deep and hungry. You had always been attracted to her voice, but when she said those words and confessed that she wanted you, your core tensed up and she was the only one that could untangle it.

“I- I… Feel the same way about you. I just couldn’t say anything. You’re my boss, and I… I shouldn’t have thoughts like that about you.” You smiled at her, and found yourself moving even closer.

“Oh, you have been having thoughts about me, have you? Care to share them with me, Y/N?” her hand moved further up your thigh and you felt like you were on fire.

“Thoughts about you… About you using me for your pleasure. About you fucking me.” You never thought you would admit these things to her, and you couldn’t believe that you found yourself on her sofa with her hand on your thigh.

“Use you? Oh, I think I can find good use for you. Are you going to be a good girl for me, Y/N?” She was practically whispering, and her lips were so close to you that you felt them brush over your earlobe.

You let out a small whimper and gasped “Yes, Larissa. Yes, I’m going to be such a good girl for you.” Your panties were soaked already, and she hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Strip down for me, Y/N. I want to see all of you.” She leaned back and looked at you with a smirk. 

You blushed, but got up from the sofa and stood before her. You had truthfully never stripped for anyone before and you had little to no idea what you were doing, but you gave it your best. Her eyes grew darker and followed your every movement like a hawk. Once you had removed your panties you stood there looking down. She got up and slowly walked over to you.

“I was right. Your ex-girlfriend was a fool. You are beautiful, Y/N.” She leaned down and kissed you intensely, and when your lips crashed together it was as if everything just fell into place. Her hands gently slid down your back, giving you goosebumps all over. 

“Sit down for me and spread your legs, Y/N.” You blushed and sat down on the sofa, hesitantly spreading your legs while looking away. She put her finger under your chin while kneeling between your legs. She maintained intense eye contact as she started kissing her way up your inner thigh, starting just above the knee. Your breathing went harder and faster and she smiled when she saw how wet you already were. 

“L-Larissa… I need you. Please.” You whimpered and she smiled. She took her time and knew how much it tortured you. She knew it would make you a desperate mess, and she already loved hearing you beg. 

“My sweet girl, so impatient and so ready for me.” Her breath on your skin made you twitch, and she let her tongue slowly slide all the way from your opening to your clit. 

“And you taste so good.” She let out a groan as her tongue went back to your clit in lazy, firm movements. You let out a loud whimper, and you could feel how it was already dripping from you. Her tongue swirled around your clit and it was as if every flick, every movement sent pulses through your body. 

Suddenly, she pushed two fingers slowly inside you, making your walls clench around them and she let out a chuckle and you felt her tongue pick up the pace while she finger fucked you deep and slow. You had been fantasising about what it would feel like ever since you shook her hand and here you were, her face between your legs and her deep inside you and it was even better than you had imagined. You could feel your orgasm build up, and she had clearly noticed. Her tongue found a steady pace while her fingers curled up and it only took seconds before you came in what felt like an explosion as your hips bucked and your thighs shivered. 

“O-oh my god, Larissa... I…” You were exhausted, and your mind was so fuzzy you couldn’t really form a coherent sentence even if you tried. 

“Now, my sweet girl. I’m glad you enjoyed it but I am not finished with you. Please be a good girl and bend over my desk for me. I will be right back.” Her voice sounded almost hungrier than before.

She disappeared through a door and you followed her orders. You bent over her desk, and while you felt vulnerable and so exposed and almost dirty in this position, it also made you eager with anticipation. Suddenly, you heard her coming back. Her steps were slow, and it was almost as if you could feel her hips swaying even though you couldn’t see her. 

Larissa chuckled and stopped behind you “Oh, you do look beautiful bent over my desk, my sweet girl. You think you can take my strap?” She caressed your butt, it was as if her soft hands wanted to reassure you that you were in safe hands.

“P-please give it to me, Larissa.” You could feel how wet you were and it made you blush, but no one had ever made you feel this way before. 

“Such a good girl for me, darling.” She rubbed the tip of her strap on your clit and it made you gasp. She could feel how needy you were for her and she loved it. You were desperate for her to fill you up and eventually she pushed it in. She let it slide in slowly, making you clench around it. It was bigger than you had thought and it surprised you, but it felt so good. She started off slowly, letting you adjust to the size and the sensation.

“It feels so good, Larissa. O-oh my…” You realised how pathetic and needy you sounded but she seemed to like it.

“Oh, you are taking me so well, my sweet girl. You are so good for me.” She picked up the pace a bit and let out a deep growl that made your core tighten. You could tell that she really enjoyed fucking you, and you had truthfully never thought this day would come. Bent over the headmistress’ desk with her deep inside you, praising you for being good for her.

As she picked up the pace again, you grabbed the edge of the desk to keep steady. You never thought anyone would make you feel so filthy but so well cared for at the same time. Your orgasm was getting closer and closer, and she could probably tell by your uncontrollable moans and your shivering thighs. You clenched to the edge of the desk while she pounded you harder until you came so hard your legs nearly collapsed and you swore you could see stars. She grabbed your hips and continued fucking you, and you could immediately feel another orgasm build up. 

“Come for me again, my sweet girl.” Her words sent a deep shiver from your spine down to your core and you came in yet another intense orgasm, and you could feel how it released a wave of arousal down your legs and her strap. 

She pulled out gently and you just stood there, exhausted but so content and satisfied. She went back to the room next to her office and you got up and went over to the sofa to get dressed. 

She came back wearing a robe and looked at you with an almost concerned look on her face. “You don’t have to leave, Y/N. I’d really like it if you would stay the night, but please don’t feel pressured to do so unless you’re comfortable with it.” She smiled gently and chuckled lightly.

“I would love to if you want me to stay, Larissa.” You blushed and grabbed your clothes.

“Come, my quarters are just through here.” She grabbed your hand and smiled. Her quarters were beautiful, and matched her office. Her bed was huge and looked like it was custom made just for her. 

“It’s beautiful here, Larissa. I love the art on your walls.” You admired her artworks. They were all paintings of nature or landscape, and although they were from very different landscapes they all fit so perfectly together.

“Thank you, my love. Art is very important to me, and when I got the job here I wanted to make my office and my quarters my own, so I have carefully selected everything myself. Thank you again for noticing, Y/N.” She smiled and kissed you. 

She removed the cushions and bed throw and took your hand in hers again. “Come, my sweet girl. I don’t want you to be cold.” You followed her to bed and crawled up next to her. You didn’t want to get too close in case it made her feel uncomfortable, but she wrapped her arm around you and pulled you in. You blushed and she kissed your forehead.

“Thank you for letting me stay, Larissa. This has been very unexpected and overwhelming, but in a good way. I have never felt like this before, and it still feels like a dream.” You moved as close as you could get, just to feel her warmth. 

“You have been my dream for months, Y/N. I would love to stay awake for hours and talk with you, but I’m afraid I’m going to fall asleep. I will make you breakfast in the morning, and I want to know everything about you.” She gave you a lazy kiss on the cheek and you could tell that she was already drifting off to sleep. You were exhausted yourself, and fell asleep with a smile on your face feeling so safe and cherished. 

[athanza]

“Shell” (Part 1)

Eric Coulter X fem reader

Tags: Enemies to lovers (sort of??), hurt/comfort, slow burn, a touch of fluff.

TW: Fighting (canon violence), blood, knives, angst, abusive past, self-destructive behaviour, crying.

((Author’s note: Hi, I don’t write much on here, especially fics, but I needed to write some Eric content so bad. I hope you enjoy ^-^))

(Note: Initiates are aged up for this story)

Thank you @duramater97 for inspiring me :3

Part 2 Part 3

Despite being from Candor you were quiet, at least once you got to Dauntless. You were in over your head and were asking yourself every day why the hell you chose this faction when you could have lived a happy life in Amity? You supposed anything was better than home, but you still found yourself wishing you could just run away. Your trainer, and leader, was a tall piece of work named Eric Coulter. You wanted to punch him in the throat sometimes but you had to restrain yourself, you needed to pass the training, you needed to.

It was nearing the end of your training and you had slowly but steadily risen your way near the top, the top 3 in fact. You were a shy, lost little girl when you started despite being 23. You had fuck-all muscle tone and although your aim wasn’t too bad your endurance was terrible, but now, now you were strong; you worked hard, training for long hours throughout the day and on your days off, you ate better, and soon you pushed past the others. Your desperation to stay and prove yourself, not just to others, had pushed you past your limits to a place you never thought you’d ever be. You felt good, you felt ready, but knew you still needed to push through the last round before you could relax, before you could call yourself Dauntless.

“Faster!” Eric shouted over the beats of fists on the line of punching bags. “Remember, it’s not all about how hard you can punch! You can be as powerful as you like but if you’re slow you’re not gonna get far in a fight with someone faster than you!”

You breathed heavy through your teeth as you punched through the combinations despite your throat hurting from breathing so hard.

Eric walked past you and watched your technique intently. “Good, initiate.” He said before continuing.

A ping of confidence hit you but you didn’t let it phase you, you just kept going, not losing concentration.

“Time!” Eric yelled and everyone stopped, replacing the sound of thumping fists with heavy, desperate breathing.

One guy ran as far as he could to the side before throwing up. No one cared, they were just too exhausted.

“As you know, next week is the final round of your training, the fear landscape. Some of you have exceeded my expectations, I’ll admit, but some of you need to step it up before the test, you know who you are. You’ll have free time from now until Friday but I’d suggest you use that time to train. Dismissed.”

You didn’t want a week of free time, you wanted the test to be yesterday but you knew you needed at least one day to prepare your mind for the fear landscape. And you were right, you trained all week until the day before and spent the whole time going through every possibility that the simulation could possibly throw at you…there was just one that worried you. Deep water and claustrophobia you could push through but the third one you were afraid might break you despite what you had accomplished.

When Friday came and you waited outside the simulation room, watching one person after another either walk out crying or have to be carried out, you started to get nervous, the first time you had been nervous since you caught up on the scoring board. But when your name was called your mind almost stopped for a moment before being drowned with noise of fear and what ifs. The only sign you showed of being anxious was your picking at the skin on your thumb with your index finger. Four noticed this, the last time he had seen you do it was when you first arrived.

“You’ll be fine.” He said. You were comforted by the hint of compassion in his voice and you smiled a fraction before Eric yapped at you to hurry up and sit down. You didn’t bother looking at him, you just sat down and let them set you up.

“You’ll be seeing this?” You asked, looking at the monitor on the only table in the room.

“Yes.” Said Four, not making eye contact.

You put your head back and took a deep breath. You only just noticed you were shaking a little and before you knew it both Four and Eric were gone and the room began flooding with water through the door.

[anxious-witch]

I have this mental image in my head of Bojan meeting someone who he hates (who most likely hurt one of his friends (an ex or something)) and ends up being protective as fuck annnnddd starting a fist fight.

Or some Jance but its Bojan who's exposing their feelings to one another in a goofy cocky way (and later he's probably being chased by Kris with a newspaper, because he as getting entertained by looking at the two lovebirds being shy and awkward)

Or bottom Bojan with Kris... There's something wrong with me these days

Basically Bojan's stupid cocky shenanigans

Okay so I did the first prompt (and kind of implied the last at the very end), and I apologize, this was written on the phone and nit proofread so. Make of it what you will. I still hope you like it!

TW for fatphobia(from an OC not one of the boys) violence, slight description of blood and alcohol

Bojan was admittedly, a little tipsy. Which meant he had a little less control over his emotions than he'd usually have.

Which in turn, meant that when he saw a man invade Nace's space, despite Nace clearly being uncomfortable, he felt anger immediately shimmer under the surface.

He faintly heard a snippet of their conversation.

"Oh, Nacko, you change so much since we went to school together! Finally lost that weight, huh?"

Oh, no he did not. Bojan saw Nace flinch slightly at the comment. He grit his teeth and made sure to push through the crowd in the club until he was at Nace's side.

"Hello," he said, flashing his teeth in something resembling to a smile, "and who might you be?"

The man looked at Bojan suspiciously. He slightly towered over him, but then again, most men did. It particualrly didn't concern him. He looked skinny. And dumb.

"I am Nace's friend from high school!"

Right. Judging by Nace's face, friend was a generous title. Bojan narrowed his eyes.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Marko. Yours?"

"Bojan."

Marko. Wasn't that the guy Nace mentioned bullying him in high school? Bojan wanted to seethe.

"Right, Bojan, of course! You are the main vocalist. I remember now. Guess you guys got pretty famous, huh?"

Bojan crossed his arms over his chest and stepped forward, making sure to insert himself between Nace and the bully.

"Bojan. Don't," Nace whispered softly, quiet enough for only Bojan to hear.

Which did make him hesitate. He didn't want Nace to be more uncomfortable, after all. So he swallowed his rage and tried to put up a charming facade.

"I guess we did."

"Never thought Nace would be a part of something like that. Do you know what we called him in high school?"

He felt Nace tense behind him. Rage hit Bojan square in the chest, and he forgot about not wanting to make a scene.

"I would recommend not saying it. Ever."

Marko didn't seem to have gotten a message, or detected his tone. He laughed, making a dismissing gesture with his hand.

"Oh, com'on now. It was all in good fun. You seem like you were popular, even back in high school. You know how things work."

What kind of piece of shit would-Bojan took a deep breath. He let his hands fall from where he was crossing them over his chest to his sides. Then he clenched them into fists.

"I do," he said, very calmly, "would you like to see how I dealt with people talking shit about my friends?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He swung at him, as hard as he could, and heard as his fist collided with his nose in a satisfying crack.

Then all hell broke loose.

Nace tried to pull him back, but Marko managed to punch him in the jaw, and Bojan taste blood from a slip lip. He attempted to push against Nace to give another punch, but Nace didn't budge.

Just in time for the bouncers to arrive and very firmly escort them out. Marko swore at them, saying he didn't even start the fight. Which looked ridiculous with their heigh difference. And Bojan did ocassionly use the influence he had to get his way.

"A bit of an obsessive fan, that one. Sorry for the trouble," he whispered to the closest bouncer.

He got a nod of understanding in response and they actually let him go, while they continue escorting Marko out. Bojan made sure to flash a quick grin in his directon.  Which prompted  new wave of swearing, before it got drowned out by the the music.

"What did you do now?" Kris asked sharply just behind him.

Bojan turned around to face his very annoyed boyfriend.

"He was mean to Nace!"

Kris raised an eyebrow. He didn't look very impressed. Bojan did his best not to pout.

"He is telling the truth," Nace said, making Bojan jump.

When did he come around? Hmm. Maybe Bojan was a bit more tipsy than he thought.

Well. That was a thought for later. For now...Bojan threw his hands around Nace, pulling him into a hug.

"I will fight all the bullies for you!"

Nace chuckled and returned the hug. Bojan leaned his head on his chest. He really did give the best hugs.

"As much as I appreciate that, I'd prefer you in one peace. He did get you good with that punch. That's probably gonna bruise."

"Where?"

Bojan groaned at Kris' question and lightly slapped Nace's shoulder.

"Look what you did! He is going to go all mom friend on me now!"

Nace simply rolled his eyes and withdrew from the hug.

"Perhaps that would stop you from getting into fights more often."

Bojan pouted and was about to say something about how much Nace actually appreciated being defended, when Jure yelled Nace's name.

"Nace! Jan is arguing with someone over math problems again!"

Nace sighed.

"I better go, before that turns into a fist fight, too."

Then he left, leaving Bojan at Kris' mercy. Kris, who pulled him to the quieter corner, where there weren't so many people.

"Let me see that bruise."

Kris gently raised his chin so he could look at it. If he could see anything with the club's flashing lights.

"Tehnically, it's unlikely the bruise already formed-"

"Just be quiet for a minute, for the love of god."

Bojan closed his mouth with a click. He knew it was due to the alcohol that his emotions were this unstable, but he suddenly became aware of just how much Kris must be annoyed with him.

"Hey," Kris said, his voice softer, "I didn't mean-you just worried me, that's all. How about we go to my place so I can take a proper look at that?"

Not everyone understood his and Kris' relationship, saying they always bickered. What they didn't understand was that, as much as they bickered, it was never intentionally hurtful. And sure, sometimes some lines were crossed, but they always apologized for it.

Bojan looked up at him and smiled. Colorful lights reflected in Kris' blue eyes and Bojan felt as starstruck as he did everytime he gave himself time to think "Holy shit, this guy is my boyfriend".

"Did I ever tell you that you have very pretty eyes?"

Kris rolled his pretty eyes at him. Rude.

"Yes. On an almost regular basis. Now let's get you home, okay?"

Bojan pouted.

"Don't I at least get a kiss for that?"

Kris shot him a glare, but Bojan could see the softness underneath it. So he got on his tiptoes and wrapped his arms around Kris' neck, reaching for his lips. Kris met him halfway.

The kiss started soft and sweet, but quickly turned more passionate as Kris pressed on the cut on his lip. Bojan moaned and pulled him closer.

It was only when Bojan pulled on Kris' hair that the younger broke the kiss and stepped back.

"Let's try not to give everyone a show in the club."

Bojan grinned.

"Does that mean I get a reward for being a good friend when we do get home?"

Kris pressed his lips together and walked towards the door without an answer. Bojan laughed as he ran after him.

Perhaps tonight was a complete waste, after all.